My children started their summer break an hour ago. The six year-old has asked me what he can do three times already. He just asked me what we were going to do tomorrow. For real.
I need a nap. Just watching the boy makes me exhausted.
If you've never yelled "get away from my bagel, that's not a donut!" then you're not me.
Last night I dreamt one of my facebook friends was committed to crazy hospital. Actually, she's a friend of some of my friends – not even my friend. I vaguely remember her from back in the day, but not really. Anyway, in my dream, chick was on the news for doing something crazy and was committed. I think she was an arsonist.
So, my new movie idea is about a clairvoyant woman who dreams these visions of people on Facebook and maybe solves crimes, but just calls in the information to the cops because she's agoraphobic and would never actually go to a crime scene. But then again, she wouldn't need to go to the crime scenes because she's already dreamed the whole thing. The best part of the show would be seeing the Facebook profile pics of peeople.
Because I'm a horrible person, I accidentally told the oldest child that the Tooth Fairy doesn't exist. She already didn't believe in the Easter Bunny, so I thought she had figured out the Tooth Fairy already. She found a baby tooth in my jewelry box (where are parents supposed to put the teeth?) and asked me what it was doing there. Then I stupidly said, "oh, you know the Tooth Fairy isn't real." She looked at me like I shot her cat. Which for the record, I didn't shoot the cat – I just put it outside after it jumped out and bit Katie when she was three. It wasn't there when I went to let it back in and you can't just go out and buy a replacement cat – they're not like goldfish.
The middle child asked if we were eating as a family tonight. As opposed to what? a pack of wolves? a pride of lions? a flock of seagulls? a murder of crows?
I could have gone on for a full post of what bunches of different animals are called. I am the best Trivial Pursuit partner in the world.
This evening, while making dinner, I wrote a song in my head about tacos to the the tune of "Your Song" by Elton John. Just keep in mind that's the kind of stuff that I think of and most likely the reason I can't do math. And you can tell everybody that these are your tacos…the recipe's quite simple, but now that they're done…I hope you don't mind – I hope you don't mind – that I didn't make more…but that's all that they had when I was in the store. I AM SO GETTING A GRAMMY.